


I was hoping to be wooed

by elf_on_the_shelf



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Because Crowley is a mess, Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Short & Sweet, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:08:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26414671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elf_on_the_shelf/pseuds/elf_on_the_shelf
Summary: Crowley has a question to ask, except, like most anything he tries to do he mucks it up. Or does he?
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 39
Collections: SOSH - Guess the Author #5 "A summer night in the South Downs"





	I was hoping to be wooed

The moonlight streamed through the paper-thin curtains and illuminated the angel’s face giving it an ethereal glow. _Not that he usually looked anything other than divine_ , Crowley mused with his chin perched on Aziraphale’s chest, drawing lazy circles with one of his fingers on Aziraphale’s arm and looking at him like he was the most perfect being in all creation – which, according to Crowley, at least - he most definitely was.

Aziraphale had fallen asleep at some point and he looked content and peaceful.

He was, of course going to ruin that peace like he ruined most things. Even if this time it wasn’t intentional. _Not that it usually was, to begin with._

Aziraphale frowned slightly while he fluttered those impossible long lashes that Crowley could write a litany of sonnets about.

‘My dear. What is it?’

‘S’nothin, angel. Go back to sleep.’

‘It certainly is not nothing. And you do tend to think rather loudly.’

Crowley groaned and pressed his cheek over Aziraphale’s heart, averting his eyes from the angel’s inquisitive gaze.

‘Darling, please tell me what it is. It obviously has you very distraught.’

Trust Aziraphale to be Aziraphale and act like a prim English professor mere moments after being woken up. _Oh Satan below_ , how he loved his prissy perfect angel. He couldn’t even properly put it into words. So he didn’t.

‘Do you ever think about what the humans do?’

‘What can you possibly mean?’

‘I mean I…ngk…I…when people live together and they are like we are…’

‘Lovers?’

‘Don’t call it that. It’s like…more than that, right? I mean do you _want_ to be more than that?’

This made him lift his head again and perch his chin on Aziraphale’s chest looking deep into his eyes.

‘Crowley…is this what I think it is?’

‘I…um…yeah? No? I dunno.’

‘Are you proposing to me right now?’

‘I mean…I…yeah? Sorta. If you want…’

Aziraphale got up on his elbows and then the heels of his palms and was now fiddling with the bedside lamp trying to get it to work and then sighing and snapping his fingers as warm light bathed the whole room and made Crowley squirm.

‘I cannot believe you, Crowley.’

‘I…sorry, angel. I just presumed...’ Crowley lowered his gaze and tried to pull away as much as possible, actually turning away from the angel in the process only to be not so elegantly grabbed by one elbow and then hugged to an inch of his life.

‘Of course I want to, you silly, silly serpent. Always. There shouldn’t be any doubt in your mind about it.’

‘Oh, and then the…?’

‘I was just hoping to be wooed, that’s all,’ Aziraphale pouted for a bit.

‘Wooed?’

‘Courted, then. Fancy dinners and champagne and flowers and the rest.’

‘Of course you were, angel,’ Crowley burst out laughing and grabbed Aziraphale’s cheeks with both hands kissing his forehead over and over. ‘And I promise you will be, you impossible creature.’


End file.
